Diaphanous Relations
by Jadeile
Summary: A collection of short stories with Jarlaxle and Artemis Entreri in various situations. Shippy at times. This is a 50 prompts writing challenge thing, so that's how long this will ideally be in the end.
1. Speak

**A/N:** This fanfic is a bunch of drabbles/shorts about Jarlaxle and Artemis Entreri; either separately or together, as friends or possibly more. The chapters are disconnected unless implied otherwise.

I use the prompt word as a thing that will get me started with the writing and give me some sort of idea to work with. I'm not trying to stay true to the word during the actual writing process, so sometimes the result will have little to do with the word itself. Take the chapter names with a grain of salt.

Expect fluff and comedy, as those are my defaults. However, character studies, angst, and hurt/comfort are likely to make appearances too.

This fic has been betaed by the lovely Death-Scimitar, as well as equally amazing Product Of A Sick Society.

Without further ado, let us begin.

* * *

**01\. Speak**

Jarlaxle sat down and stretched his back, relaxing in the comfortable little tavern he had found a few days ago. He had soon discovered the place was a convenient place to observe the people of the city in his spare time; the place had a particularly casual and inviting atmosphere that his skin colour didn't seem to instantly ruin for a change.

Two men in the neighbouring table were talking without seeming to care if someone could listen in on them, which of course prompted the drow to do just that. The conversation didn't seem to be about anything he needed to pay actual attention to, nor did anything else in the tavern seem to be of any importance today, so Jarlaxle decided it was a good time for some foreign language practice.

He discreetly slipped off his magical trinket that gave him a perfect understanding of the surface Common.

Listening carefully, and frowning slightly in concentration, he tried to follow the conversation. He found he could understand most of it, although it was proving difficult to keep up with the suddenly much more quick-paced speech. In reality the talking wasn't any faster than before, but he needed extra time to understand the words and piece together the full sentences in a completely different way. It left him lagging behind and missing things because of it. Not to mention the foreign words he plain didn't know in the first place making it needlessly difficult at times.

He was very happy he could cheat his way out of translating when it mattered most, but sometimes he genuinely felt the need to stop and practice his listening comprehension. Because one never knew.


	2. Touch

**02\. Touch**

Jarlaxle stared quietly at the sleeping assassin.

He didn't feel like beginning his reverie just yet; it was too early for his tastes, considering he needed less rest than his friend. So he entertained himself by thinking about this and that while staring off in the distance. It just so happened the "distance" his gaze traveled to was his snoozing companion, laying on his back, chest slowly rising and falling. It was difficult to make out the exact details of his face from this angle and distance, even with the dark vision the drow naturally possessed.

Staring at Artemis proved to be even more of a distraction, breaking his thoughts again and again, until he finally gave up and let his feet silently take him to the man's bedside for a better look.

It was really quite calming to look at Artemis', for once, peaceful face. Any wrinkle that wasn't the permanent kind had smoothed away, leaving his expression neutral and relaxed. His brows weren't furrowed, his eyes weren't glaring, his mouth wasn't forming a thin line. Just... peace and calm.

Seeing such a non-hostile expression on his friend made the drow want to reach out and caress that face. Press his fingers against his cheeks, trace his jaw, maybe ghost over his lower lip. Definitely brush that little lock of hair to the side, even if, technically, it was perfectly fine and nonirritating where it was. It was just irresistible, screaming at him to brush it to the side just for the sake of doing so.

"What do you want?" Entreri suddenly mumbled, nearly making Jarlaxle jump out of his skin.

Apparently his friend wasn't quite as asleep as it had seemed, which in hindsight shouldn't have been surprising in the least. However, the man made no attempt to get up; apparently he knew they weren't in danger and didn't plan on properly waking up unless there was a good reason.

Might as well push his luck then.

"Honestly? I was thinking of touching your face", Jarlaxle answered, half whispering for the sake of not being of any more disturbance than necessary. The answer disturbed the peace a little though, since a small frown formed on Entreri's features.

"What."

"Your face. I want to place my fingers on it", the drow repeated, making sure to keep his voice neutral and quiet. Don't enrage the sleeping dragon, so to speak.

"Why the hell do you-" Entreri began, but seemed to change his mind. He sighed and shook his head in exasperation, "Let me sleep. You have plenty of time to be a moron during daytime."

"Pardon me, but I'm never a moron", Jarlaxle said slightly indignantly and crossed his arms.

After a moment Entreri sighed again, "Fine. Have at it."

Jarlaxle opened his mouth to argue, then blinked in confusion and stared instead, mouth still gaping open before he gathered his wits again.

"What?"

"I will get rid of you faster this way. Touch my face and scram", Entreri said and seemed to relax again, or at least the frown from his forehead softened.

Jarlaxle still couldn't believe his pointy ears. Did he just get permission to...?

He would probably have his fingers broken tomorrow if he took the bait.

Good thing he owned a healing orb.

The drow smiled so brightly he could have lit up the whole room with its radiance. He leaned over and very gently brushed his ebony fingers against the half-sleeping assassin's cheek. The skin felt rough with the faintest stubble, but that did little to quell Jarlaxle's bliss. He felt his way down the cheek to the man's jaw, slid his fingers over the small goatee and brushed the other cheek with his thumb. He very deliberately brushed the side of his forefinger against Artemis' lip when he moved his hand away, making it seem like an accident. Then he gently moved that little lock of hair he had spotted on the man's forehead earlier to the side, making sure to touch his ear briefly in the process, even if the lock of hair wasn't long enough to go behind it.

Then, regretfully, he pulled his hand away and straightened. Artemis hadn't moved during the process at all, but he probably wasn't back to sleep yet either and certainly wouldn't tolerate this kind of thing for much longer. If Jarlaxle wanted to have a chance to do anything like this again in the future, he had better not push the limits this time.

"Good night, my friend", Jarlaxle whispered, "and thank you."

He tiptoed back to his own bed, where he spent the next ten minutes staring at his own fingers and wondering if he really felt faint tingling or if that was just his imagination.


	3. Memory

**03\. Memory**

Entreri ran his fingers through his short hair and stared at the ceiling blearily. He heard breathing and shuffling; Jarlaxle was awake and around, making his presence known. He couldn't quite decide if that was a good or a bad thing. However, it prompted him to get up and stop lazing around. He stretched his back and tossed away his covers, then sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes and face.

His face.

He frowned and looked at his fingers quizzically. Funny, he had this unreal, tactile memory that last night he gave his eccentric drow partner a permission to touch his face and didn't even break his fingers for it. Maybe it was just a dream? Surely something that ludicrous couldn't be a real memory. He couldn't see himself letting Jarlaxle do something that... peculiar? Intimate? Plain pointless, to him.

"Ah, I see you're awake! Good morning, my friend", said drow said cheerfully somewhere in the background. There was a sound of boots loudly and proudly clacking against the floor as the elf made his way over to Entreri. He was beaming as he looked at his friend... and seemed to be paying way more attention than usual to his face, rather than his eyes.

It wasn't a dream then, was it?

Entreri held up a hand to silence the drow before more endless talking could commence, and then held out his other hand in an expectant manner.

"Give me your hand for a moment."

Jarlaxle's sudden disappearing act fully confirmed that it was indeed a memory instead of a dream.


	4. Innocence

**A/N: **I thank all of you wonderful people who have reviewed, followed, favourited or just plain read this story. You make this writing business even better than it is on its own right.

Also, I wanted to address a thing that's popped up: I've gotten a couple of people giving me prompts for this story. I'll write the things, because who am I to say no to my fans? :D But for your knowledge, I've got the prompts covered, so you don't need to suggest them. You're free to do that if you really want, but it's not necessary.

That is all, now commence reading about Jarlaxle and Entreri.

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**04\. Innocence**

Entreri didn't like the look on Jarlaxle's face. Not in the least.

"Do we have to move from the town again?" he asked, "or will a few slit throats suffice?"

The drow looked at his companion with an obviously faked expression of surprise.

"Whatever makes you say that? Do you think we're in some kind of trouble?" Jarlaxle asked, even adding a gasp between the questions for effect. If Entreri had been prone to eye twitching, now would have been a perfect opportunity to utilize the habit. But he wasn't and he didn't.

"No, not in the least. Your 'I'm a completely innocent little elf who has nothing to do with today's events' look might work as a poker face for most people, but I've seen it too often in the right context to believe it anymore. Shall I start packing?"

Jarlaxle laughed heartily and gave a little bow, readily admitting his defeat.

"A few slit throats will suffice, my friend."


	5. Smile

**05\. Smile**

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't impossible to get the seemingly permanent frown to leave Artemis Entreri's face. Slightly challenging, for sure, and even more difficult to have the change be genuine rather than an act for the sake of any company they might be keeping. But far from impossible and far from uncommon either.

Jarlaxle would know, he spent time with said man on a daily basis, and tried to make sure that a smile appeared on his lips on a daily basis too, even if he didn't always succeed.

The opposite of that was true too: Jarlaxle's smile was difficult to wipe out. Even while holding a pokerface, he would be smiling on the inside.

Entreri would know, he spent time with said drow on a daily basis, and tried to make sure that a frown appeared on his brows on a daily basis too, even if he didn't always succeed.

Too bad for him, usually his success at infecting his gloom on Jarlaxle made him smile to himself in victory. Which meant that Jarlaxle's goal was also reached.

It was truly a vicious cycle that both of them enjoyed more than they cared to admit.


	6. Ways and Means

**06\. Ways and Means**

"He said it didn't matter how we did it as long as we did it", Jarlaxle hushedly argued as he climbed upward in an awkward manner while trying to avoid scraping his elbows any further. It was really difficult to advance in such a cramped and dark place, especially since falling would mean crashing on top of his partner and sending them both down.

"You could have left his wife out of it though!" Entreri growled from below Jarlaxle's climbing figure, and promptly coughed as some ash wafted into his face, "And for the love of your spidery Goddess, try to watch where you put those feet!"

"Quiet! No really, we don't need a lightning bolt or something equally nasty here because of your inability to keep your voice down", Jarlaxle hissed and then bit his lip as his hand slipped and his elbow scratched against the bricks again. He could feel a sting and guessed that the skin had finally broken, which was soon confirmed by the feeling of warm liquid pooling on the tip of his elbow.

"It might make you go faster", Entreri sneered, then seemed to startle slightly. He stayed quiet for a moment but that didn't last for long.

"Are you leaking?"

Jarlaxle grit his teeth. He figured that he had bled on his partner.

"My elbow is bleeding, too much close contact with these walls", he said. Entreri huffed.

"Figures that your pampered elven skin can't take any physical contact with anything rougher than silk sheets."

"Now that was just childish! Do I need to kick you?"

"I have a dagger that would like to see you try that."

"Well I have- did you hear that?" Jarlaxle stopped moving and concentrated on listening instead. Entreri went completely quiet and still too. He then heard it as well: voices somewhere below them. If they hadn't yet been discovered, they would be soon.

"I believe that is our cue to get the hell out of here."

"I couldn't agree more, my friend."

The rest of their way up was done in complete silence, and considerable speed.


	7. Belief

**07\. Belief**

"Do you actually believe in Lolth?" Entreri asked when they were setting their camp for the night.

The question came from out of the blue for Jarlaxle. He supposed it had came to his partner's mind from the giant spiders they had encountered earlier in the day, since he had certainly acted suspiciously back then. Jarlaxle hadn't killed a single one of the spiders in the battle, even if he had incapacitated them in other ways. It had been rather noticeable when the two of them had rounded the bodies up for loot, and none of the corpses had sported dagger holes or any obvious spell burns.

"I don't see what there is to believe. I know for certain that she exists as it's been proven multiple times, therefore it is not a belief, it's a fact", the drow answered, dodging the real question. This was a bit of a sore subject for him. He hoped that his reluctance to answer properly would put Entreri off from more inquiries, or perhaps just annoy him enough to make him drop the subject.

Much to Jarlaxle's chagrin it didn't. Perhaps he had too often utilized the method of just taking the man's words at their face value. Sometimes he didn't bother to look for any further meaning during casual conversation between just the two of them, other times he was being difficult for no particular reason other than to mess with Entreri. Whatever the reason, Entreri decided to explain himself rather than drop the subject or get angry.

"That isn't what I meant. Do you consider her your deity?"

The drow sighed and busied himself with their campfire for longer than necessary to buy more time to think of his answer. The question was more than a little difficult for him and not the kind he liked to think about more often than was required.

"I don't see how I'd have much of a choice in the issue. I was raised under her watchful eye, and even if I ignore her, she will still judge my actions and come up with a way to deal punishment if I step out of line too much. As such, she is my deity whether I want it or not", he said when he had been stalling for almost too long. Even though he was talking about the Spider Goddess, he was thinking more along the lines of his Matron Mother, technically his sister, whom he was still serving under even if he had his own house. He could ignore a whole deal of rules and act on his own, but there would still be very dire consequences if he were to fully sever ties with house Baenre. And those ties bound him to Lolth indefinitely.

"That's bullshit. No god or goddess can force you to worship them if you truly don't want it; if you deny them you will be out of their reach when it comes to punishment. Do you want to worship Lolth?" Entreri asked, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation. Of course he had plenty of knowledge of the drow culture, but he was still an outsider to it and didn't, couldn't, truly realize the hold the priestesses had over the drow males. He had seen his share of oppressive priests in his life, but on the surface world those problems were solvable by a well aimed dagger and soothing words. On the surface cultures there were many gods to pick from and thus no-one enforced your loyalty to one deity with too much vigor.

But one couldn't murder all the female drow, and soothing words couldn't erase centuries of damage from the psyche so easily. In the drow society, Menzoberranzan in particular, one only had a single option when it came to deities, and the pressure to obey never ended. You couldn't run from it.

Jarlaxle was quiet for a long time and only spoke again when Entreri was about to lose his patience and question him again.

"I don't want to talk about this. I believe I must consider this on my own before I can give you any kind of an answer", he said with a deep sigh, "You may ask this again at some later point. But not now. ...not now."


	8. Linger

**08\. Linger**

Entreri noticed that Jarlaxle was staring at him again. The drow had developed the habit of doing so when they were preparing for bed. Sometimes it was when they were planning their actions for tomorrow before going about washing their teeth and undressing; sometimes it was when they were blowing out the candles and settling down in their beds; most often it was when Entreri had already closed his eyes and was trying to sleep, but couldn't because he could feel that he was being watched. Tonight it was the second option. There was one last candle flickering on his nightstand; he wanted to take one more glance at the lockpick he had obtained that day before settling down and catching some sleep. However, he found it difficult to focus because he could feel the crimson eyes boring into him.

He knew why the drow was staring; it had all started that one night when, for some bizarre reason, Jarlaxle had insisted on touching his face. Since then the drow had paid more attention to his face than before, which often manifested in staring, and sometimes even going as far as to suddenly brushing his cheek with a single finger when he was least expecting it. In short, Jarlaxle had developed a strange need to attach his hands onto Entreri's mug. The assassin had no clue why, but no amount of threatening to cut the drow's fingers off had made it stop, so he resigned on it being a thing that happened whether he wanted or not, and tried his best to ignore it and not encourage it.

Strange thing was that Jarlaxle hadn't asked a permission to touch him again, even though he obviously wanted to. The occasional casual cheek brush, always happening during the daytime, probably so that he had a better opportunity to run if necessary, was one thing. But the whole ordeal about Jarlaxle mapping his whole face with his fingers was another, and it just wasn't being requested despite being expected. That was almost more bothersome than the whole staring business.

Entreri looked up and turned to give the drow a glare. Jarlaxle just smiled in return.

"Are you finished? The candle light is really bright in an otherwise dark room and makes my eyes sting just a little bit", the drow said, sounding rather cheerful about something he said was bothering him.

"It would hurt less if you weren't looking in its direction", Entreri replied and turned back to his light source. He could hear a low chuckle.

"True. I think I will heed your advice then. Good night, my friend", the drow said.

Entreri felt the sensation of being watched cease and heard the shuffling of covers as Jarlaxle presumably turned away. He sighed and looked at his acquisition, but found that he still couldn't concentrate on it. He gritted his teeth and forced himself into his task, but found his mind wandering back to those crimson eyes that no longer bore holes into his face.

He needed to know.

Entreri stood up and walked over to his partner's bedside, not even bothering to be particularly quiet about it.

"Jarlaxle", he said and crossed his arms over his chest. The drow turned around and looked at him curiously.

"Yes? Did you need something?" he asked.

Entreri took a deep breath before speaking, "Can I touch your face?"

The drow stared at him, blinking a few times and then frowning in disbelief.

"Pardon? I don't think I heard right, because I think I heard you asking if you could-"

"Your face. I want to place my fingers on it", Entreri said, purposefully using the exact same words Jarlaxle himself had used that fateful night. That apparently got through because the drow snorted in amusement and patted the edge of his bed invitingly while scooting over a little bit.

"By all means, feel absolutely free to", he said and gave Entreri a bright smile. He crossed his arms under his head and closed his eyes, but a small smile stayed on his lips.

The assassin still couldn't believe he was doing this, but he sat down on the cleared spot and stared at his partner's face. The drow's skin was coal black and the contrast between it and the white pillow he was resting against was striking. The white eyebrows and eyelashes stood out from his face in a similar manner. He wasn't wearing his eye-patch tonight, but seemed to have left all of his earrings on, except for the very large hoops he sometimes wore.

Entreri hesitantly brought his fingers to Jarlaxle's cheek and noted the contrast between his and the drow's skin. He, himself, was dark skinned, with gray undertones to add to the overall darkness, so the difference was smaller than one would think. Pushing the thoughts away, Entreri moved his fingers, caressing the smooth skin of his partner's cheek, under his eye, down his jaw, and then taking a side track to his pointy ear. His fingers lingered on the earrings before traveling up the outer edge to the area his own ears didn't even have; the tip that made elven ears stand out. He felt Jarlaxle shiver slightly but paid it no attention, instead placing all his concentration on feeling the pointed tip and then tracing the other side of the ear all the way back to Jarlaxle's jaw. Almost on their own accord his fingers ran down to the side of Jarlaxle's neck, back up, then back down... until he realized what he was doing and abruptly pulled his hand away.

Jarlaxle's eyes snapped open from suddenly being deprived of the contact and their gaze found Entreri right away. The look in them was... different from usual. Entreri couldn't quite place it, especially because he was busy being slightly horrified at what had just happened.

"... no, I still don't understand why you're so fascinated with this suddenly", Entreri said to cover whatever slip he had had just now. He stood up, turned around and marched back to his own bed, where he quickly blew out the candle from his nightstand.

He could feel Jarlaxle staring for a moment before the drow turned away again, not commenting at all. He didn't need to, because Entreri had lied. He understood full well now.

In the darkness Entreri stared at his hand and could swear he felt faint tingling.


	9. Tears

**09\. Tears**

The colours were stunning. The reds and oranges. The subtle pinks and purples. All blending together seamlessly in the slowly darkening sky, yet still shining brightly enough to keep the darkness at bay for a little longer. So very brightly.

Jarlaxle was sitting cross-legged near the edge of a cliff and staring directly at the setting sun. He had taken off his eye-patch to do so with both eyes, and his eyes complained about the sun scorching by pushing out tears of agony. But he didn't look away, only squinted.

It was quiet and serene, which made the approaching footsteps very obvious to Jarlaxle's sharp ears, despite the lightness of the steps. He didn't turn. He already knew who it had to be after all.

"You're doing this again? You do realize that it actually damages your eyes instead of strengthening them, right?" Entreri asked, stopping behind the drow.

"I am fully aware of that", Jarlaxle answered, not moving and certainly not turning his eyes away from the sun.

It was quiet again for a moment. A few tears dripped down Jarlaxle's cheeks, unchecked.

"Staring at the sun is harmful even for the races that live on the surface, so I can't even imagine how much it would damage those from the Underdark", Entreri continued with a neutral tone.

"You told me that the last time you caught me doing this", Jarlaxle said patiently, although a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Actually, I didn't. The last time and the time before that I didn't even bother coming over because the first time had been for vain", the man countered. Jarlaxle chuckled at that.

"I see you're keeping a record. Why did you come over this time then?" he asked, truly curious now.

"Because I realized that I hadn't actually asked you 'why'. It started bothering me."

Jarlaxle glanced over his shoulder at this, but that actually accomplished nothing because the dark and light spots dancing in his eyes made it impossible to see anything. From the sounds of it, Entreri realized as much.

"You can't see anything, can you?" he asked. He stepped closer and sat down next to the drow, then reached over and pulled the large hat to shield his partner's eyes from the sun, "Whatever your reason, that's enough sun staring for you today."

Jarlaxle's shoulders slumped in mock defeat and he sighed deeply.

"Of all the times for you to start caring about my health", he said with a low chuckle. He reached up for his hat but then changed his mind and let it stay where it was. Instead he rubbed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

Entreri huffed but didn't comment.

"Why, you asked?" the drow said quietly and settled his hands on his lap, "I'm actually not too sure of it myself. I find sunsets beautiful but that isn't the reason. I'm not trying to strengthen my eyes either, like you seemed to suspect. It's... deeper than that. I believe part of the reason is that I'm drawn to the sun because I lived for centuries without it and I'm the rare type of drow who find it pleasant rather than just cruel. Another part..."

He was silent for a while and Entreri waited patiently.

"Another part is that I find the reaction it causes for my eyes strangely soothing. I do not cry often. I can't even remember the last time I did", he said, although it was actually a lie. He remembered full well the last time, or at least he remembered a time he had cried even if there was a slim chance that it hadn't been the last time. But Entreri didn't need to know that little detail. It wasn't really relevant right now.

"I don't cry. But I suppose I wish I did. Sadness is such a deep emotion, and I think I'm trying to artificially replicate it. ...it doesn't make any sense, but I'm not sure if it has to", the drow said and chuckled softly.

Entreri looked at him incredulously. Then he shook his head.

"You're right, it doesn't make any sense", he said, although he seemed to be giving it some thought anyway.

Jarlaxle let the comfortable silence engulf them and looked towards the setting sun, but not directly at it anymore. Just the scenery below it, where the hat didn't obscure his view. His sight was getting better by now and he could see bits and pieces of forest and roads, even if the bright patches in his vision made it a little harder than usual. He even managed to catch a glimpse of a doe grazing with her fawn.

"Onions."

The drow turned to look in his partner's direction curiously.

"If you want to cry that badly, you can chop onions to accomplish that. Less damage for your eyes and a healthy addition to dinner", the man said. Jarlaxle laughed.

"This is what I like about you, you're so practical", the drow said and patted his friend's shoulder. He was almost sure he saw a smile on Entreri's lips.


	10. Ornaments

**10\. Ornaments**

Entreri's hand was still on the doorknob but he just stood in the doorway and stared.

Jarlaxle was sitting by the table and had a sewing kit in front of him. He had one of Entreri's shirts on his lap and was currently stitching something to the sleeve. With sparkly golden thread. Not only that, but a bunch of mannequins had appeared all around their room and each of them was wearing at least one article of Entreri's clothes. Most of them had been embroidered in one place or another.

"Ah, I see you've returned from the trip", Jarlaxle said happily and put the shirt on the table. He stood up, brushing a few glittery pieces of thread from his clothes, and walked towards Entreri with open arms and a huge smile, "Welcome home, my friend!"

Entreri stepped inside and pulled the door closed with more force than necessary. He glared at Jarlaxle to make sure the drow didn't even think about hugging him or anything else of the like.

It didn't work. The damned drow threw his arms around him anyway.

"You have no idea how much I missed you! It was so boring around here, nothing has happened in the past few days", Jarlaxle said and patted the stiff assassin on the back, either oblivious to his impending death or just uncaring about it.

"Oh, I'm well aware I'm as good as dead, don't doubt that", the drow said and pulled away so he could look at Entreri, "But we can get to that later. I want to show you what I've done first."

So he was just uncaring.

"Jarlaxle, I swear to any god that is willing to listen that I will kill you, take your ears and then pay someone good money to take them from me", Entreri said calmly.

Jarlaxle beamed.

"I'm honoured, dying by your hands is one of the greatest things one can wish from one's death. Although so far you've failed to keep your promise when it comes to this particular issue, seeing how I'm still alive. Now come on", the drow said and walked over to the first mannequin, gesturing for his partner to follow.

Entreri moved his hand to his dagger and seriously contemplated burying it between Jarlaxle's shoulder blades. He swore to himself he would do it as he walked over to the drow.

But he didn't. Instead he found himself listening to Jarlaxle's rambling about the embroidery.

"This is almost invisible under normal conditions, but if light shines on it just right it will stand out marvelously. This one on the other hand is just the kind you'd like. The wolf ornament on the back will be neatly covered by the vest you always wear with this shirt, so nobody will even know it's there except for the two of us. It slightly defeats the purpose of a decoration, but you don't always have to show it off for the whole world to see, sometimes it's enough when only you know it's there", the drow lectured, obviously proud of himself.

Entreri wondered if he should kill him quickly or slowly. He would prefer to do it slowly but Jarlaxle was too resourceful and the more time he took the bigger the chance of him escaping was. So it would have to happen fast.

"As for this one..." Jarlaxle's voice grew quiet and that brought the assassin's attention back to what was going on around him. He looked at the shirt in question and his eyes widened a little.

He wasn't much of a materialist, but that one was his favourite shirt.

He would not only kill the drow, he would drain his soul with his dagger.

"It's your favourite. So I didn't do anything to it."

Wait. What?

"What?" Entreri asked and looked at the drow in disbelief. Jarlaxle was looking at the shirt with a wistful little smile, then seemed to realize Entreri was looking at him. He turned to meet his eyes and his lips curved into a bigger smile.

"I left it as it is. I was thinking of giving it the most fabulous embroidery I could think of but then I realized it's perfect as it is. How else would it be your favourite?" he asked, then patted Entreri's shoulder and walked back to the table to continue his work on the shirt he hadn't finished yet.

Entreri stared at the drow, then looked at the untouched shirt.

He let go of his dagger and stormed out of the room.

Jarlaxle smiled to himself, knowing he would live to see tomorrow after all.


	11. Paint

**A/N: **When I begun this fic I didn't make it absolutely clear that I was working on a ready-made prompt set, and thus a couple of helpful reviewers left me prompts. I don't want to waste perfectly good prompts, so now that we're ten chapters in I'll post them before moving on to the next ten : D

* * *

**Reviewer Special Chapter 1, Paint**

Entreri sat cross-legged on his bed with his back towards the rest of the room, looking at the off-white wall. He had a can of black paint, a big brush and a small brush next to him.

He and Jarlaxle had been living in this tavern room for a couple of days now, and it seemed it'd be their permanent residence for a good long while. As such, it was about the time he added a proper dagger target next to his bed. He liked doing that whenever the opportunity presented itself, and now was the perfect opportunity. The room was as permanent as they came to traveling mercenaries, and his annoying drow companion wasn't around to bother him.

The only obstacle to overcome was coming up with the idea for what to paint.

The last time he had done this was back at Heliogabalus, where his silhouette of choice had been Jarlaxle. His dagger had found its mark on the painting's crotch. He had rather liked that one, but he didn't want to repeat himself.

One option he considered was a dragon. He really hated those creatures and Jarlaxle's tendency to find them wherever they went. Throwing his dagger at one every evening was a tempting idea. However, Entreri didn't necessarily want a silhouette of one next to his bed.

He supposed he could paint another Jarlaxle, just in a different position. Maybe sitting so that aiming at his head would still leave the dagger low enough for Entreri to reach easily. Or maybe he should make it a drider Jarlaxle, just to unnerve the drow by planting the thought in his head.

That was actually a worthy idea.

Entreri smirked to himself and stood up to push his bed out of the way. Time to get to painting.


	12. Kids

**Reviewer Special Chapter 2, Kids**

Jarlaxle sat by the window of their tavern room, watching the life outside, while Entreri occupied their table, moving coins into small piles while scribbling on a parchment. Jarlaxle figured he was probably making a shopping list, but didn't bother asking. After all, the assassin's shopping weren't usually interesting in the least, unless something went wrong. Instead, the drow busied himself with people watching.

Their tavern was in a peculiar spot, or at least the placement of their room's window was a little unfortunate. There was a small hill with a couple of trees outside and it seemed to be a popular place for the local kids' games. Whenever it was sunny, children would start appearing in small groups and play there all day until night fell and they had to leave. Jarlaxle could see directly into their playground from their oddly aimed window. It was really quite fascinating in his opinion.

There was a group of kids playing some kind of game where everyone ran around while one of them seemed to try to catch the rest. The caught children would then sit down by the trees and wait until the rest were caught. Then they would start again with someone else being the chaser. Jarlaxle idly wondered if there was some kind of system for how one was picked to be the chaser each round. There might be, but it was difficult to tell the children apart from this far, especially since all human children looked similar to him. He would like to see this game closer, but he didn't think anyone in this town would approve of a drow being near their children.

He smiled to himself and glanced in Entreri's direction.

"Do you know what I like about human children?" he asked. The assassin didn't even lift his eyes from their task.

"I don't care."

Jarlaxle ignored his partner's answer, not letting the lack of encouragement stop him from telling anyway.

"Their playfulness. I can see a popular playground from our window and it's highly fascinating", he said, "the children just play all day long, only occasionally leaving and then coming back soon. I had never seen anything like that before coming to the surface. Drow children don't play."

Entreri's lack of care for this conversation was almost tangible.

"... I suppose drow children might behave like this if they were allowed to", Jarlaxle mused, not bothered by the lack of response, "that is, if adults didn't begin their social training as soon as the children learn to walk. If positive feelings weren't being weeded out in the process of making them learn their places. At least for male drow it's like that. I have never seen how female drow are raised when they're very young. However, I don't think it's as fun filled as it is for the children out here."

He looked at the playing children again with a wistful smile, falling quiet again. Much to his surprise Entreri joined him after a moment. The man didn't smile, but he certainly looked wistful in his own way.

Perhaps all human children didn't have the luxury of a fun filled childhood either.


	13. Coup de foudre

**11\. Coup de foudre**

Jarlaxle stared at the necklace in the window with wide eyes. It was a thin gold chain with an oval shaped deep purple gem, perhaps an amethyst, embedded into a perfectly round pendant. The gem was surrounded by dozens of very tiny diamonds that made the piece of jewelry glitter enticingly at the smallest ray of light.

Not only that, but the necklace came with a matching bracelet.

And the little piece of paper next to the velvet pillow they were resting on said they had magical properties.

Jarlaxle needed to own them. He needed to own them stat. He needed to own them yesterday.

He was inside the shop so quickly that if someone had been looking at him and had blinked, they would have thought he had just disappeared into thin air.

"Excuse me, who wants to take my money for the jewelry in the window?"


	14. Expectations

**12\. Expectations**

It was an early morning and most of the customers in the tavern were still sleeping in their rooms. There were only three people in the dining hall besides the waiter, Nadia. It was the regular set too. The one dwarf who drank all night and usually didn't make it into his room before passing out, but was too heavy and aggressive for any of the staff to carry upstairs. He was currently asleep under his usual table, with a blanket tossed over him to keep him warm. He paid well for his room and drinks, so this was tolerated.

Then there was that pair that was almost always up very early, despite Nadia's suspicion that they often stayed up late, doing who knows what who knew where. Probably things that were better left to the dark.

The short man and his drow companion.

Nadia was always on the morning shift and thus around when they descended the stairs, so she didn't even need to ask them what they wanted to drink while waiting for their breakfast to be made. Instead she just left her floor sweeping duty and briskly walked up to the liquor shelf to pour the drow a glass of wine and the man a pint of honey mead. Then she took a moment to just observe the two of them so she'd be adequately prepared to face them.

Today seemed to be a good day. The drow looked chipper and kept beaming at his companion, while the man looked slightly awkward but not hostile. That was actually a new expression on his face, the awkwardness. Had something happened between them?

Nadia walked up to their table with a smile on her face and the tray with their drinks in her hand.

"Ah, good morning, miss Nadia! You're looking positively radiant this fine day", the drow said and gave her a winsome smile. She giggled politely and set their drinks down.

"Good morning to you too. You're looking particularly cheerful", she replied and tucked the tray under her arm so that she could take out her notepad and pen from her apron pocket.

"It shows? You're most observant."

"In this job you have to be. What will you have today?" she asked.

The drow happily chattered away, letting her know his order, questioning her about the weather, joking about the sleeping dwarf, and even offering to braid her hair. She politely declined.

The man was silent as usual, speaking only enough to let her know what he wanted. He wasn't the type to waste his breath on small talk if he didn't want something out of the conversation. When the two of them had first arrived he had done most of the talking, presumably because he had had to explain away his peculiar company. Once the tavern staff had gotten used to the drow the roles had reversed; now the drow was always talking and the man was generally quiet.

Nadia left the two to their own devices and made her way to the kitchen to prepare their breakfast. The cook wasn't awake yet, but she could handle the tavern on her own at this hour; breakfast items were simple enough for her to make.

She made short work of cooking the food and carried the tray towards the dining hall, but abruptly stopped at the doorway.

The man was running his fingers against the drow's cheek, tracing the line of his eyepatch with an unreadable expression.

That was... unexpected.

The drow had been increasingly touchy-feely with his companion lately. The touching had initially seemed to irritate the man, but had since then become the norm. But Nadia hadn't seen that happen the other way around until now. Not in such an intimate manner at least.

If she hadn't seen the original dynamic between the two when they had arrived, she would think nothing of this. After all, a touch like that wouldn't be out of ordinary between another pair of people. If she hadn't seen the selfsame dynamic suddenly change like this, she wouldn't bat an eye.

But as it was, if the drow hadn't been flirting with her and every other woman in this tavern, she would certainly suspect that something was going on between those two.

She rubbed her eyes in disbelief, but when she looked at them again they were sitting on their own sides of the table, looking like nothing had happened at all.

Maybe... maybe she had just imagined it. Or it had been nothing more than the man fixing the angle of his companion's eyepatch for him. It wouldn't be out of place, under normal conditions.

Nadia was ready to admit to herself that she was seeing something that wasn't there at all when she delivered the tray of food to their table.

She would have, if it weren't for the fact that the drow was now practically radiating happiness.


	15. Fate

**13\. Fate**

"You just had to do that, didn't you?"

Jarlaxle looked up from his notebook and to the fraught looking assassin who had just appeared in the doorway. Entreri seemed to be displeased about something he had done.

Not that he didn't know what it was, but he could always pretend he didn't. It made conversations like this much more fun.

"Do what, my dearest friend?" he asked cheerfully. Of course, him being so happy about his pretended ignorance made his cover that much weaker, but that hardly mattered when it was clear both of them knew the truth anyway.

Entreri's lips tightened into a thin, angry line as he walked over to the table and damn near slammed his palms against it. He glared at the increasingly amused drow.

"You sunk the ship that was supposed to take us to Baldur's Gate. Purposefully. Not even trying to be discreet about it", the man hissed.

Jarlaxle wasn't sure if Entreri was more angry about the ship having been sunk, or the fact that he hadn't covered his tracks. It was an interesting thought, but surely not one he should bring up right now. Instead, he might as well let his partner in on his line of thought.

"It was an unavoidable fate", he said with a placid tone of voice, "I visited a fortune teller and he said this would happen. Or something about ships anyway. It didn't seem very likely to me, but I felt that it would be a waste of my time and money if it didn't happen, so I made it happen."

Entreri stared at him incredulously.

"You're not serious", he said. It didn't sound like a statement, more like a plea. That is, the closest equivalent of Artemis Entreri ever pleading.

Jarlaxle beamed.

"I am! I'm not one to waste my money if I can help it. Chin up, we can always get ourselves booked in another ship. ...if any captain is willing to take us aboard after this. Or we could buy horses and take the route that doesn't involve the possibility of drowning with awful smelling sailors, and instead involves exploring the land and killing awful smelling goblins!"


	16. Pulse

**A/N: **No promises on regular updates, but here's a reward for the long wait you've endured. Also, my lack of a beta attributes to any weirdness in the English.

* * *

**14\. Pulse**

A jeweled dagger clashed against a sword before swiftly retreating and losing its target to the impenetrable darkness. The sound of a cloak whooshing almost inaudibly caught his attention, and Artemis Entreri took a quick step to the right and swung his weapon again expertly, hearing another satisfying clink of metal striking against metal. He struck out with his sword while he still had his opponent within his reach but predictably the attack was countered, and the two of them were separated again.

"You're getting sloppy. I could hear your cloak", Entreri said while readying himself for another attack. Then he felt a sudden sting on the back of his neck and whirled around, only for his target to be gone again, if he had ever even been close enough to be hit. He cursed inaudibly and reached for his neck, finding a small dart in it. Then he started feeling light-headed.

"You're getting sloppy. I could hear your voice", said his opponent, but it felt like the sound was coming from far away as Entreri's senses betrayed him. His sword dropped from his limp grip and clanked against the floor, and his dagger threatened to do the same. The dazed assassin used the last of his strength and sense to lift the weapon up and throw it in the direction the voice had came from. Then he blacked out, unaware of whether or not he had even hit.

ooooo

The first thing Entreri registered was the floor under his cheek. And the fact that his arm was underneath his body and felt uncomfortable like that.

Next he heard quiet breathing nearby, but didn't react to it in any manner, not wanting to let whoever it was know he was coming to. Then he remembered what had happened and knew who the breathing had to belong to.

"... that was unsporting", he muttered, and was rewarded with the sound of his companion shifting, presumably to look at him.

"What can I say, I was getting tired but I didn't want to lose", Jarlaxle's voice said cheerfully and completely free of any kind of guilt. Entreri heard him shift again and then felt hands upon him, turning him to a more comfortable position. He opened his eyes and looked at the dark elf hovering above him, all smiles and ridiculous hats.

"Was the sound of your cloak part of the plan?" the assassin asked sourly.

"Even if it wasn't, do you think I'd admit it? So I'm saying yes, it was", Jarlaxle answered with a chuckle.

Entreri felt the hilt of his dagger being pressed into his palm, and wrapped his fingers around it protectively.

"Nice shot, by the way. You almost took my ear with it. That's really impressive, given the state you were in", the drow continued and beamed at his companion, seemingly genuinely happy about almost losing an ear.

Entreri huffed and closed his eyes, concentrating on ridding the after-effects of the poison from his numb limbs.

"Next time you pull a trick like that during our sparring you will wish it was your ear you lost", he deadpanned.

Jarlaxle laughed long enough for the assassin to begin to suspect that he would die from suffocation from the act.

"My dearest friend, that is precisely why I didn't approach you until after you awoke and I could be certain the sleeping agent in the poison had actually affected you!"


End file.
